The Fury of the Empire

Blood still dripping from his wounds, the battered man once again took his throne. He looked to his guards, then at the broken bodies on his formerly polished floor. Shouts and cries from the hall just outside the heavy oaken doors echoed into his chamber, boiling his blood. He glared at the man standing to his left, breathing heavily beneath his black armor, and fantasized the man's very much timely demise. The daggerous pain in his shoulder planted his feet firmly back on the ground and he clenched his teeth as the stinging wound bit him. He reached his hand up to squelch it, but only got blood on his pale hand. Furious, the Emperor called for his highest remaining official. Surprisingly, a general strode through the door, blood smeared across his face, his sword still clenched in his hand.
"What is it, my liege?" he asked, falling to one knee, a bit unsteadily, and offering up his sword.
"I want to address my people tonight. Take what men you have left and spread the word. I want everyone who can stand present."
"It will be done, Emperor," The general rose to his feet turned. He snapped his fingers and two guards near the doors followed him out, his sword still dangling by his side. The bleeding emperor sat in his throne as the sun took its leave in the west. As the blood began to dry and become hard, the sovereign imagined what words would wind their ways through his lips and over his crowd. When the sun was all but gone, the entirety of the city had been assembled in the Imperial Garden, just below the Emperor's window. He looked out at them, and tried to stand, but a burning needle seemed to pierce his leg and he fell back down into his seat. He motioned for one of his guards to come near and whispered something into his ear. The man nodded and ran out the door, returning within the minute with the Emperor's most trusted adviser, who also held a sword in his hand, a sight very uncommon for a man of such poise. The man passed through the doors a bit hindered by an injury that ran red from his thigh to his ankle. He went before the Emperor and took a kneel.
"What is it, my lord?" the man asked to the floor. The emperor beckoned for the man to come closer and whispered something into his ear.
"Yes, of course, my lord. As you wish!" The man snapped his fingers and the two guards came to attention. "Carry him outside," the adviser ordered. The men looked puzzled, as they looked from the man to the throne, a solid granite chair that had not been moved since its construction, several millenniums ago. "Pick him up and lean him against the railing," the adviser demanded, impatiently. The guards moved quickly, but carefully took the emperor, one on each side, and helped him outside. Upon seeing him, the crowd burst out in a rather loud celebration, some praising his strength, while others sang at his injuries. The guards propped the Emperor up and left him leaning on the railing. The adviser followed closely, sheathing the sword, and making himself a bit more presentable. He wiped the blood from his face and straightened his dirty clothes a bit. The cheering died down and the Emperor beckoned to his servant. The adviser leaned over and put his ear near the injured ruler's mouth. The emperor whispered his decree into the man's ear.
"His Majesty would like to thank all of you for coming out on such short notice. He is well aware of the busy schedule you all seem to have." The man glared out over the crowd, which showed no reaction. The emperor tapped him on the hand and he leaned closer. Another whisper entered the man's ear and he turned to the crowd.
"The Emperor wishes to thank you for your honesty. It takes a great deal of courage and a huge sense of community to accomplish what you have accomplished. His majesty congratulates you on what you accomplished. He is proud to be the ruler of such a unified people. He applauds you in his heart and welcomes you to do so now." The audience burst out into an uproarious cheer. A few fireworks went off, illuminating the darkening plaza as the sun nestled low beneath the mountains. The adviser watched them with slightly disdainful eyes and looked to his master who wore a grim smirk on his face. When the people recomposed themselves, the Emperor leaned over and whispered into his adviser's ear again.
"His majesty would like you all to know that because of your cry for change, he will be making several changes in the way his subjects are treated. His ways have been wicked and he wants to make up for his actions in recent days and asks for forgiveness for his wrongdoings of the past." The adviser snapped his fingers and a great rolling of drums began and armored footsteps created a symphony as hundreds of soldiers emerged from doors. Among them were spearmen, who lined the ground level, cornering the citizens, archers, who took their posts on the balcony, and sprinkled throughout the courtyard, a few swordsmen drew their blades. The outcry came in short bursts until the entire plaza was filled with shocked and infuriated citizens, among them, the Emperor's guards, wielding the smooth curved blades entrusted to them. The adviser raised his hand to quiet the fretting crowd and addressed them once again, with the Emperor's words.
"His imperial highness apologizes for his rash actions, but were he able to address you today, his mood would be much better!"
"This only proves that we were right!" Cried an anonymous voice from below. The adviser pointed to the general direction, from whence the voice was heard and three swordsmen moved in. With a flash of their swords, they left a bloody mess of subjects behind as others recoiled in fear. As the men shook the blood from their swords, the Emperor's adviser spoke again.
"To ensure no misunderstandings in the future, His majesty is holding each and every one of you responsible for the crimes that took place here today." He raised his arm and the archers loaded their bows. The creaking of their wooden arcs came as a haunting song for the men and women and children standing below them. A few people who attempted to escape were either cut down by the swordsmen or skewered by a long spear. The fearful eyes of the people turned back to the balcony. The adviser stood, his hand poised to strike. The Emperor gave him one last message to relay.
"It's time all of you learned what it means to rise up against a God." He snapped his finger. The sound echoed off the walls. The archers' song came again, but their strings were accompanied by bloody vocals.